The Chronicles of Valen Ch. 04
“Disclaimer: Valen, Nathyrra, The Seer, and several of the other characters are the property of Bioware. If you’ve played the game, you’ll recognize them. The rest is the invention of my twisted little imagination, including Morrighu Badb and the goddess she serves.”
Nathyrra takes the pack and disappears past the door to the women’s quarters, heading for Morrighu’s room.
~*~
Morrighu sits in the small tub scrubbing off the grime from the proving grounds and thinking about her outburst earlier. She sighs, glad that Valen was the only one to see her so. At least he didn’t seem to take her outburst to heart.
She smiles at the thought of being comforted by anyone and decides to speak to him about it. She’s well aware that they face a far superior force. While this is not an impossible task, she knows that maintaining morale is going to be key to their success.
Having it known that the leader is unstable and prone to emotional outbursts isn’t conducive to maintaining morale. Troops need to feel that their leaders are competent and capable in order to trust them and follow orders.
While she sits, luxuriating in the warm water, she reflects on her failing and resolves to do better. She also decides that she should probably speak to Valen. With that she picks up the rag and the soap and starts scrubbing in earnest. It won’t do to keep Valen waiting.
She finishes her bath and looks at the grimy water and sighs - only a couple of more nights to be clean. Being in the field constantly isn’t conducive to being clean. A bath and particularly a warm one always seems like the biggest luxury of all to her next to a real bed.
She sighs again and pulls the plug on the drain. She towels off and notices that she seems to be healing nicely. She decides that she should probably see if Nathyrra can change the dressing on her back and so she gathers her robe and returns to her quarters.
She finds Nathyrra sitting on the corner of her bed, holding her pack. “Morrighu, what in world are you doing carrying this much gold? Valen said that we should go through your pack and take what we needed. We took quite a few of the things you had. I hope you don’t mind.”
Morrighu grins at her “Why do you think I carry around things I can’t possibly use myself? Besides, I’m never sure where I’m going to be, so when I sell off excess items, I toss the gold into the bottom of my pack. I don’t really have anywhere to leave it, so I just carry it with me. Besides, I’m glad you’re here. Can you help me with this dressing?”
Nathyrra sits, flabbergasted at the paladin’s casual attitude, “Morrighu, do you realize how much gold is in there? You could buy a…a…a kingdom.”
Morrighu shrugs nonchalantly, “Nathyrra, it’s only gold. It’s always good to have in case we need to negotiate or hire mercenaries. Now, here, help me with this dressing. I want to see if I’ve healed enough to do without it. It won’t be very attractive under the dress I’m planning to wear.”
Nathyrra approaches her and carefully peels the dressing off and looks, “Well it’s not bleeding anymore but the skin looks awfully tender.”
Morrighu takes her pack and looks inside to see it fully stocked. She grabs a healing potion, swirls it around a bit, grimaces, and then drinks it.
She sighs as the potion begins to work its magic. “I do hate the taste of those things, but they seem to do their job well.”
Nathyrra laughs at the face she’s making.
She continues, “Speaking of things done well, I shall have to give my compliments to Valen. My pack seems to be remarkably well stocked. Now that the dressing is off, I don’t suppose you’d mind helping me with my hair again.”
Nathyrra sighs, “If nothing else, I shall have to go with you as a chaperone,” and grins.
~*~
Valen is waiting for her in the main temple when Imloth walks over to him. “Very nice…you look much better properly dressed. And Eilistraee be praised, you got new boots. Please tell me that burned your old ones?”
Valen rolls his eyes and colors slightly, “Well, it’s odd escorting her around in my practice leathers and she did mention that she wasn’t overly fond of studded leather. Something else to wear seemed to be in order. I hope she’s pleased with the selection of supplies.”
Imloth looks at him, “I’m sure you did fine. You know that Cavallas is here and asking for her by name. You may want to take her down to the docks and introduce her.”
Valen suppresses a shiver and says “I hate dealing with Cavallas. I have no idea why he helps us and that makes me nervous. However, if he’s asking for her, I’ll take her there straightway.”
That’s when Morrighu makes her entrance. Once again, everyone turns to see what she’s wearing and the murmur of voices in the room dies out.
He sucks in a sharp breath and stands frozen for a moment, until Imloth nudges him in the ribs.
He’s completely taken by how this dress, which covers more, seems far more provocative than the skimpier garment she borrowed from Nathyrra. The dress is made of strategically placed panels attached to each other by ribbons, each one tied in a bow. It fits her so well that it seems that it was painted on to her.
The color, a pale blue, contrasts with her tattoo and the whole effect has rendered Valen awestruck. Recalling her comment of the night before, he looks at her hair and notices that the same pale blue ribbon is worked into her hair as well.
He sees her scanning the crowd, looking for him, and moves away from the wall, where he and Imloth were chatting. The movement attracts her notice and she turns toward him, smiling.
He approaches and bows formally to her, “I trust that everything is what you expected.”
She grins at him, “My pack is certainly in good order. You in some formal clothes, however, is an unexpected treat.”
She takes his arm and he looks down at her and says, “You may wish to put your cloak on, my lady.”
She looks up at him and says “Is it cold out?”
He is truly repressing the urge to wrap her in his cloak and says “No, but we must go to the docks and it would be a shame for you to spoil such a vision.”
Imloth isn’t sure what Valen just said to her, but he sees the red creep up her neck and when she turns she looks pleased. “He’s learning” he thinks to himself and grins.
Valen helps Morrighu into her cloak and then escorts her from the temple.
She takes her accustomed spot with her head on his shoulder, “I saw the receipts. That really wasn’t necessary, you know. I’m not sure what passes for entertainment around here, so I brought the bottle of brandy. I thought we’d go back to our spot by the river, drink brandy, and tell tales.”
She looks up at him and he finds himself swimming in an olive gaze, “Unless you have other ideas.”
He sighs, “The evening is yours. If that’s what you wish, my lady, that’s what you shall have.”
She smiles at him and suddenly he smiles back at her. They wander toward the docks and for once, she notes, Valen doesn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.
She looks up at him and asks shyly, “Do you like the dress? It’s more the style I grew up with, as is my hair.”
Valen grins at her, “I thought you were dangerous in that thing Nathyrra lent you. This one is really over the top. I’m the envy of every man at the temple.”
He teases her, “You may even get another frog or two.”
She growls at him “Must you bring that up?” and she decides to tease him back “Unless of course, you mean to give me one.”
He blushes furiously and changes the subject, “The boatman, Cavallas, has come in to port here and is asking to speak with you. I must warn you that we know little about him. He has always been helpful, taking us up and down the river; bringing us useful news as well as goods. He is, however, a most unusual individual. None of us are sure exactly who or what Cavallas is.”
Morrighu considers his words, “I suppose I shall have to make my own judgment of him then.”
They get closer and Morrighu notices that the figure at the docks looks familiar. She points, “Is that one you call Cavallas?”
Valen follows her finger and says “Yes, do you know him?”
She gives him a dark look, “Yes, but not as Cavallas.”
She approaches and with a hard edge in her voice, says “Hello, Phlegyas. Imagine meeting you again.”
Valen is surprised but decides to remain silent.
Cavallas turns to face her and speaks in his watery gurgling voice, “Other names are for other places, paladin. I am Cavallas here. I’m glad you came to see me. I’ve been asking for you. I have news for you, paladin.”
“Why are you here, then, “Cavallas”?” she demands, “You know I don’t trust you. You’d best answer and it had best be an answer I believe or I shall cleave you where you stand.”
Cavallas gives her a watery chuckle “That would be a most grievous error, paladin. I know things you need. If you are wise, you will hear me out. As to why I am here, I am here because the Valsharess’ heart is the only thing darker than my beloved river. She seeks to control everything, including my river and that I cannot allow. Since you seek to stop her, I will aid you.”
Valen can see Morrighu grinding her teeth in frustration, “Out with it then, Cavallas…how do you plan to aid me?”
Cavallas chuckles again, “You are wise, paladin. My river tells many things, just as it told me of your arrival. I know for example, that while there are many places here, there are only two of interest to you, paladin. The first is an island where an entire city of winged elves suddenly appeared. The other is an island of golems.”
Morrighu sighs in resignation “So tell me what you know of these places.”
She listens patiently while Cavallas speaks, but her head is down and she refuses to look at him.
When he is done speaking, she raises her head and says “Cavallas, I will not be ready to depart for at least 2 more days. Will you be in port that long?”
To his surprise, Valen sees Cavallas bow, “I am at your disposal, paladin. Contrary to what you might believe, I do not often get to make the rules, but I am always required to follow them. This time, I will gladly wait for you.”
Morrighu turns on her heel and departs, leaving Valen to follow or not.
Valen turns and goes after her, and as he reaches her, he grabs her shoulder and spins her to face him, “Morrighu, you know him. You have some questions to answer.”
She looks up at him, “Not right now, please. Just…oh, what in the name of the nine hells is he doing here anyway? I have to think.”
Valen grabs her shoulder again and his fingers dig in painfully, “Morrighu, you had best tell me what’s going on and tell me now.”
Morrighu protests “Ow! That hurts! Let go of me!”
Valen refuses to let go so Morrighu kicks him the shins. When he grabs for his leg, she darts away from, cursing and sobbing.
He hops after her but she soon out distances him. He stops muttering to himself.
He waits until he can walk again and follows her. It takes him a while to find her, but he spots the brandy bottle sitting at the base of the wall and once he gets close enough, he can hear that she’s still sobbing.
He looks up and finds that even in her dress, she’s managed to climb part way up the wall. She’s sitting on an outcrop of rock with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around her legs.
He calls up to her, “Morrighu, please come down.”
Her response is a watery, “I being miserable and feeling sorry for myself. Go away!”
He sighs and starts climbing. Soon he sits down next to her and says “Morrighu, what’s wrong? Please tell me, maybe I can help.”
Refusing to look at him and keeping her face buried in her arms, she growls at him, “Go away! I don’t want you see me crying. I look terrible when I cry.”
Valen chuckles in spite of himself. He reaches over and scoops her into his lap and says “I promise not to look. I even promise not to tell anyone. Look, I’ll even put my cloak over you. Now, hush and tell me why you ran away.”
She sighs and says “Because I knew I was going to cry and didn’t want you to see. Damn that thing! He speaks to something painful in my past, which upset me. It’s a bit too like the present for my comfort.”
After a short hiccupy pause, she continues, “Besides, I’m still a bundle of nerves from almost dying and it’s never good for the leader to be weak, and as you so aptly pointed out, I’m the leader now. I have to do my best to keep morale up and crying like a child isn’t exactly helpful, so I wanted to get away from everyone, but especially you. You’ve already seen me through one emotional outburst and I didn’t think you should witness another. Besides, I got all dressed up for you and red puffy eyes aren’t exactly attractive.”
She feels the rumble in his chest and realizes that he’s chuckling again.
“Don’t you laugh at me! Don’t you dare laugh at me! I already feel enough like a ridiculous child,” as she nestles against him.
To his surprise, he feels her arms slip around his waist. He leans back against the rock wall and pulls her closer to him, “Morrighu, you should know that I don’t care. I have seen many after such an experience and your reaction is not that uncommon. I’m just glad that you trust me enough to let me see it.”
He feels her start to quiet and finally she says, “I suppose I owe you an explanation about Phlegyas. If you’d like to hear it, I’d ask a favor of you. I didn’t think I could climb up here with the brandy so I left the bottle at the base of the wall. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to fetch it?”
She feels the rumble in his chest again “How do you think I found you?” and with that he pulls the bottle out his shirt, “but I didn’t get the glasses.”
She laughs, “I suppose that since my image as a proper lady is already blown, drinking from the bottle won’t damage it any further.”
She hears him laugh too, “You are proper enough. Did I not tell you we could do whatever you wished this evening? If that means having yourself a good cry and getting over your nerves, so much the better. I’d rather have that happen now than after we depart. We have the whole evening. Take your time and tell me, O fearsome paladin.”
He feels her giggle, “I don’t feel particularly fearsome at the moment, and I rather suspect that, right now, I don’t even look particularly intimidating, either. I do wish I had a mirror.”
Valen rumbles, “If you’ll hold you head up, I’ll be your mirror. Here.,” and he wets a corner of his cloak with a tiny bit of the brandy and waits for her to lift her head. He can feel her scrubbing furiously at her face with her hands and finally she emerges.
“Close your eyes, this might sting a bit,” and with that he begins wiping the tear stains off her face.
She sighs while he finishes his work, “I first met him when we went to cross the river Styx,” she turns at his sharp intake of breath, and continues, “but that’s really the middle of the story and I should begin at the beginning. While I have been a paladin most of my adult life, I have not always been a paladin in the service of the goddess Morrighu.”
He looks at her curiously and gestures for her to continue.
She takes a deep breath and plunges into the story, “When I was originally consecrated as a paladin, I was in the service of the god Rigan.”
Valen tries to bite his tongue, but cannot hold back any longer, “You were devoted to the mad god Rigan!”
She grimaces, “He wasn’t mad, in the beginning.”
She smiles at the memory, “He was a god of harvest and peace. We were defenders of our people. We were greeted wherever we arrived with praise and flowers. We were hailed as heroes and made welcome. Strangers bought our ale and many opened their homes to us. The yoke of his service rested lightly upon me. Things were peaceful and all was right in the world.”
She laughs bitterly, “Had I known then what I know now, I would have chosen another god, but that is beside the point. Things were good for a long time but then there was a war between the gods. Some were even forced to walk the world in mortal form, for a time, but Rigan survived. I wish that he had not. I do not have the words to tell you how awful it is when your god becomes utterly odious to you — when everything you have sworn to uphold becomes a horror.”
She grits her teeth, bracing for his reaction and continues,” I’m not really sure exactly what happened, but the priests told us that he had been poisoned and driven insane. They tried mightily to heal him but nothing worked. Many of his long time priests died in the attempts and those that rose up to replace them were…darker men, more devoted to following his whims than attempting to heal him. Without anyone to try to correct things, he just kept getting worse and worse. He became…cruel and capricious, but I’m getting ahead of myself.”
He frowns, “I don’t see what this has to do with Cavallas.”
She pokes him, “I’m not there yet. Now…where was I…Oh, yes…The first inkling we had at just how wrong things were came when he changed our colors. No longer did we wear the golden yellow of harvest-ready wheat. We wore black and he even made us paint our armor black. We thought he mourned some loss of the war he’d been in. If we had only known…”
As he watches her face becomes sad and pensive, so he hugs her.
When she speaks, her voice is bitter, “He started to send us out to “cleanse pockets of evil,” and at first we went willingly, thinking that the war had spilled over into the prime. After all, this was the god that had always given us bountiful harvests and striven to protect his people. It did not take us long to realize that instead of being welcomed when we arrived, that mothers pulled their children into houses. Instead of flowers, we were greeted with empty streets. We began to question his orders and this led to discord amongst us. You seem to have heard the tales, but one thing I have never heard them speak of is the war that was fought amongst the paladins of Rigan.”
Valen looks shocked, “You…you warred amongst yourselves?”
A small tear creeps down her cheek, “That we did. Perhaps because we had all once been close, the fighting was all the more bitter. There were two groups of us. There were those who felt we should follow his orders without question and there were the rest of us, who felt that Rigan had become evil and was not worthy of the service of paladins. So many fell….and we all had friends on both sides.”
Valen looks at her curiously, “What did your god have to say about that?”
She chuckles ruefully, “Plenty. It did not take Rigan long to realize that we were rapidly thinning our own ranks and so he called us before him. It is a terrifying thing to face an insane, enraged god. I hope never to have to do it again. We knelt in the temple while he raged at us, all of us. Finally, he spoke the words that would set some of us free. He said, “You will not be free of my service until you cross the river Styx and stand upon the Plains of Dead.”
Valen nods in understanding, “So when you went to cross the Styx, you met Cavallas.”
She pokes him the chest playfully, “Stop skipping ahead. We went to one of the few priests that we still trusted and he explained that this feat was possible for those who are still living. The priest also confirmed for us that he had bound himself by his own decree. We discussed it and there was a group of us who was determined to stand against him. We wanted our old god back or at least the freedom to find another more to our taste. The rest of those who had sided with us previously were too frightened by his wrath to continue against his wishes. So we set out to seek the river and the means to cross it.”
She stops and takes a swig of the brandy and passes him the bottle, “We discovered that the “pockets of evil” that he’d had us cleansing were any and all who were able to perform arcane magic. We had unknowingly slaughtered innocent wizards, sorcerers, bards, and even arcane archers — all in the name of an insane god. Their only crime was the ability to perform magic.”
Marcia sucked on Jan’s hardened nipples and played with Leroy’s swinging ballsac. “Stick your cock all the way in her, you black bastard,” Marcia snapped at Leroy. “Fuck her,” she screamed. He gave Marcia a dirty look, then rammed his cock into Jan’s open white body.
He was brutal. And she loved it. Her orgasm exploded upward from her pleasure-raw cunt, and erupted in her brain. The intensity made her body convulse and spasm with involuntary tremors. Blinding colors flashed behind her closed eyelids as waves of unexpressive pleasure crashed over her. She was in heaven. Then she fainted.
Leroy pulled his still hard cock out of Jan’s dripping pussy. It was slimy with her cum juices. “Your turn now, bitch!” he snarled at Marcia, who jumped back at the harshness of his voice. She wasn’t quick enough. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it hard, forcing her down.
“On your knees,” he commanded. “Let see if you’re as good as your mother.” He pushed her down on her hands and knees beside her sister’s panting body.
“Wait,” she said, suddenly scared. “What are you going to do to me?”
The big black man laughed. “What do you think I’m goin’ do to you, honky cunt. I’m gonna fuck your pretty pussy ragged, then I’m gonna ream out your asshole . . . and you’re gonna love it - just like your momma.”
“Oh, no,” she yelled and tried to squirm away, but he held her down in a vise-like grip. Fear spread through her body.
The last of Uncle John’s cum was dripping in Cindy’s wet pussy, mixing with her cum juice. His cock gave a final twitch and finally was still. Every ounce of morrow had been sucked from his body by his young niece’s demanding, ever juicy, always cumming cunt.
Her body had squirmed beneath him; hips grinding, demanding. Her nails and teeth had torn at his flesh. He couldn’t believe her wantonness; her lust. Her cums were so frequent and intense; her body so wild, he feared that he would be thrown off of her. Now they lay quietly, still entwined; Cindy’s tongue tracing zigzag lines on his face and neck, the world slowly intruding upon them.
Voices, once just noise, became clear. They pulled apart and looked across the room. Leroy was forcing Marcia to her knees; describing in detail what he was about to do to her. Jan lay beside them; exhausted or unconscious, neither could tell. They could see the glistening droplets of cum dangling in her pussy hairs; the open, pink, inner walls of her cunt staring back at them.
Cindy raised up on her arm. Leroy’s ebony cock, slick with pussy juice, stood up, straight and hard, and filled her vision. “Oooh,” she said, eyes bright again with excitement, “Lets get a closer look. That fuckin’ thing is huge!”
Leroy’s left arm lay heavily across Marcia’s buttocks and with his right hand he guided his thick cock up and down the crack of her ass; around her pussy, lubricating it with her flowing secretions. His words, his threats; his huge club, had actually stimulated her even more and her pussy was full of cunt juice. She could feel it leaking out, down her legs; feel it oiling Leroy’s fat dickhead as he slid it over her fat cuntlips. Its very touch sent a shiver through her body.
Pleasure and fear of the unknown mixed together as she felt him place his massive dong at the very tip of her cunt, teasing her lips. Her body twitched, then with one smooth stroke he shoved his erect cock to the hilt up her hot, searing pussy.
“Aaaaaaggggggg!” she screamed; face contorted, hands tearing at the sheets. The initial pain of penetration by Leroy’s huge shaft almost caused her to blackout. Sweat broke out on her brow and she shoved the bedsheet in her mouth to keep from screaming again. Kneeling behind her, hands tight on the white mounds of her ass, she felt the muscles of his large black body bunch into knots as he strained to hold himself in check.
“Oh, shit, hot white pussy! I’m in!” he proclaimed. “That’s it baby, you can take it . . . easy now, that’s it. Just like your sister; just like your momma.”
By sheer force of will, Marcia controlled her ragged breathing. Leroy’s huge, black fuckpole was buried to the hilt in her pussy, stretching her beyond belief. Slowly, she felt a strange warm feeling begin to take hold. The pain was no longer there. His mammoth prick begin to move. The strokes became longer, and the pleasure began to grow.
“Ooooooh,” she moaned, as the warm glow started to wash over her. “Oh, yesss. Fuck me, Leroy! Just like you did my mother. Oh, yeah . . . harder, harder, Leroy. That’s it! Fuck!”
Leroy’s cock was slick with pussyjuice and now moved easily in the lovely white chick’s cunt and he could see the thick, pale-white cream clinging, slimy, to his prick. He panted harshly as her cunt spread wide and accepted him, the thick lips sliding back and forth over his shaft as he drove his dong into her. “Oh, hot pussy. I love it!”
Marcia panted, grinding her hips back into him, wanting more of his exotic blackness. She heard him laugh, then he smacked her ass and shoved his dick in hard.
“I’m cunning!” she whined. “OHHHHHHHH, FUCK!”
The big black humped her wildly, slamming his cock in her spasming cunt until it felt like she’d faint from the intensity of her sensations and she would have collapsed if Leroy hadn’t held her up by the hips.
“Now for the big one!” he huffed, pulling his cock from her dripping pussy. Droplets of cum clung to his shaft and her silken pussy hair.
“Look,” Cindy whispered hoarsely to her uncle, “He’s going to fuck her up the ass!”
John Cummings had seen Leroy Lincoln fuck a white asshole before; his own wife’s, in fact. But this was something else; more stimulating, more erotic. These were his own nieces, and there was something more graphic, more lewd about watching this than anything he had ever seen before. His hard-on was back, and Cindy held it tightly.
Leroy ran his hand up Marcia’s cunt, spreading slick cunt-juice up her asshole. Jan, now awake, Cindy, and Uncle John watched in passionate fascination as Leroy ran a finger up Marcia’s asshole and pistoned rapidly as she squirmed, then suddenly yanked his finger out. Marcia jumped wildly, as if touched by live wire. Her eyes widened, and her mouth flopped open, but, so sudden was the intrusion, and its retraction, that no sound came out.
Leroy’s attack on Marcia’s asshole was so swift that everyone, including Marcia, was caught unaware. The surprise saved her, but she wasn’t aware of it. Had her ass muscles tightened; fought back, Leroy’s massive rod would have torn her apart. He had mounted her and in one swift motion, had guided his cock into her almost virgin butt, sinking it to the shank.
“Eeeeeeeeh!” Marcia yelled. “Oh, God! Oh, God!” she panted, suddenly feeling the full stretch of her asshole. Her eyes bulged and her eyeballs rolled until the whites showed. She was breathing so rapidly that she almost hyper-ventilated; her body swaying with dizziness.
“Ahhhhh, yeahhhhh! I love tight ass!” Leroy hissed. Then, slowly, with great care - he knew just how big he really was - he started to move his cock up her Marcia’s ravished ass. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the pain; but it didn’t come. Instead, a strange, exciting feeling surged through her body engulfing her brain.
“Oh, oh, yessss! Ooooooo! Oh, God, yesssss! It’s great! It’s great!” she yelled. Her body squirmed backward, head flopping from side to side. Her fingers probed her cunt; she was dripping again. Swiftly, they moved over her distended clit and blinding flashes of light began to explode in her brain. She rammed two wet fingers up her sopping pussy and her hot juices dribbled down her thigh.
Jan was on her hands and knees, straining to see her sister’s pleasure. She felt a sudden pressure at her asshole; turning, she saw her uncle between her legs, his tongue licking and probing her sensitive third hole. He slobbered saliva all over her orifice as the tip of his tongue penetrated her ass. Her eyes closed in pleasure.
“Ooooh, yesss, lick my asshole . . . tongue it!” Her voice was hoarse with new passion. She lowered her head and raised her ass to give her uncle greater access to her treasure. The view from between her legs; her uncle’s big cock and heavy balls, made her cunt boil over with new, hot cunt-juice. She watched as his cock disappeared from view; his balls now close to her cunt. Her asshole was being stretched - slowly, cautiously. She panted as the sensations she had seen in her sister’s face began to take hold of her. His cock was halfway in, his ballsac now slapped her open cunt. Automatically, she began to play with her pussy; fingering herself, stabbing her cunthole with her index finger; running it over her super-sensitive clit.
“Oh, baby-love. I’ve got to fuck your ass! Relax, babe, I’m almost there. Relax!”
She leaned back, impaling herself on her uncle’s joy stick, remembering the sensations that Peter had first introduced her to just days - hours? - ago. Her hands moved rapidly in her cunt. She was close to climax.
Cindy knelt between her two skewered sisters; both with their asses high, impaled with thick, wonderful fuckmeat, her body shivering with desire and voyeuristic pleasures. She lived the assfucking - both of them - by watching her sisters, sharing the thrills and pleasures that crashed through their bodies and brains. She got down between them; hugging each, kissing them; lips, necks, bodies; sucking their tits; heightening their joy. Her own pleasure threatening to crash through the dam at any second. Without conscious thought, she shoved her cum-rich muff in Marcia’s face, laid back and offered her swollen tits to her sister, Jan.
Responding to their total abandonment of convention, the incestuous sisters added their younger sibling to the rutting group. Marcia’s tongue spread her cuntlips apart and she sucked on Cindy’s’ swollen clitoris, while Jan laved the hardened nipples of her younger sister. Cindy’s orgasm began the second Marcia started to suck on her clit. It triggered a chain reaction as, first, each of her sisters began to cum, followed by the ass-humping men. The screams of passion, of ejaculation, of orgasm echoed off the bedroom walls; mixing together to form a calliope of loud, disjointed groans, moans, and whimpers. As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and the exhausted quintet fell to the floor, panting.
“Mmmmmmmm. Oh, I feel so good,” Marcia said.
“Me too,” Jan sighed.
“I’m not talking while the flavor lasts,” Cindy said and the girls giggled. John and Leroy sat on the floor, their chest heaving from the exertion of fucking two super-hot, young assholes. They smiled at each other in self- satisfaction.
“Like I said, man; you have some fine pussy in your family. Fine pussy!” Leroy’s words came in gulps.
“Oh, yeah, that we do. And I didn’t even know it until tonight.” John looked at the girls. “What triggered this passion, anyway?”
They laughed in unison. “Your X-rated epic,” Cindy said.
Marcia said: “Staring Mom and Dad; their brother and sister, and . . .”
“. . . a all black supporting cast.” Jan said, finishing her sister’s sentence.
“You know about that? You mean all this was planned?”
“Oh, yes, very definitely,” Marcia said, “And if our plan is doing well, Aunt Mary and your wife, Leroy, have, hopefully, been fucked and reamed as well as we have.”
“Christ! I forgot about them. Are the guys fucking their Aunt Mary?”
“Of course,” Jan said in a tolerant voice.
“What’s the purpose?” her uncle persisted.
“Who gives a big rat’s ass, John. They fuck like aces. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Jan leaned over and kissed her uncle, lightly, on the lips; her hand caressed his flaccid cock. “Don’t worry, Uncle John,” she said, “we’ll explain everything in good time.”
“Yeah,” Cindy said, “like right after I get Leroy’s big dick in my cunt and ass.”
“And after I get to fuck my mother’s brother,” Marcia said with a excited glow in her eyes. Jan waved her hand in the air. “Don’t forget about me.”
The two men looked at each other, then at the three lovely, very horny, young women. “Oh, shit!” they said together.
***
Much later, when the sated quintet returned to the living room only Greg was up and on his feet. He was standing at the bar having a drink and he looked like he needed it. Marcia walked to him, careful not to step on any of the bodies laying on the floor. “Hi, honey,” she said, hugging him. “How do you feel?”
He held her tight, feeling the warmth of her naked body against his. The smell of sex permeated her skin, like a heady perfume. He kissed her, first lightly, then with more force and desire. “Hi, yourself,” he said with a smile. “I missed you, believe it or not. And I probably feel about the same as you do.”
“That good?” She laughed and looked around the room. Leroy had Marcy up and leaning against him. John was assisting his wife.
“Looks like you guys had a good time - a real good time,” Jan said from the sofa. She was prodding Peter’s limp cock with her bare toe. Everyone was naked.
“It was a draw,” Greg said. “And we were damn glad to get it. Those two ladies can fuck!”
“Com’on,” Marcia said, tugging Greg by the hand, “sit down. You look like you’re ready to fall.”
“Thanks heaps,” he said.
“Oh, Christ!” Peter said with a yawn, “I am definitely pussywhipped. Where did you learn to fuck like that, Aunt Mary?”
Mary was sitting in an armchair, rubbing a cold washcloth over her warm body. Cum spots were still evident on her face, and in her hair. When she smiled, as she did now, you could tell that Mike Brady was her brother. The smile was the same.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Peter; but to tell you the truth, I’m a late bloomer. Of course, the way things are turning out, I’m not complaining. I have been thoroughly screwed, blued, and tattooed, tonight. Now would someone kindly tell me what’s going on here?”
“We were fucking,” Cindy said in all innocence.
“Before we tell you our part, we’d like to know how everything started between you all and Mom and Dad.”
Mary looked at her husband for guidance. He shrugged. “That was a fortunate accident! A couple of years ago we, that is, your parents, John and I, went to Lake Tahoe for the weekend. We had connecting rooms at the hotel. That night we danced ’til the wee hours, and were pretty high, too, so we just fell into the first bed that was handy. Only, somehow, John was with his sister and I was with my brother.
“Chalk it up to the drinks, the atmosphere, whatever; sometime during the night we all got horny and wound up fucking each other.”
“Did you know you were fucking your own brother?” Jan asked.
“Oh, no, I didn’t. It was dark in the room. John wasn’t aware of who he had in bed, either.”
“That’s right,” their uncle said. “Carol and Mary are built pretty much the same.”
“Yes, we are,” Mary said, continuing her story, “but that night was different. It was like being first married again. We just tried to screw each other to death. It was really super-charged night of sex.
“We all woke up when the phone rang the next morning and we realized what happened. Well, I can tell you, we were four nut cases. Carol and I cried; the guys paced the floor. They didn’t know whether to punch each other in the mouth or … or what. It really was a mess.”
“How did you settle it? How did you all get together?” Peter asked in his best attorney manner.
“Well, we each went off in different directions. When we got back we had a bottle sent up and we started talking seriously. After a couple of drinks, we started to tell the truth. We were horny again! Sex with my brother; John with his sister, was the thing that made us horny again. We’d been in a rut. And the truth of the matter was, secretly I’d always wanted to fuck Mike, even when I was a young girl; and Carol had always wanted to fuck her brother, too. We were naturally close to each other and he had been my first secret love.
“The guys finally admitted that they used to peek at us taking baths; Carol and I did the same thing. It just seemed that brothers and sisters are sexually attracted to each other but convention forces that sexuality to the back of the mind, but it’s always there. We found that out. So, what we did was to admit the truth. We had enjoyed ourselves and, more importantly, we wanted to do it again.
“And we did. This time in the same room, and in the same bed!” Mary Brady Cummings leaned forward, hands together in her lap. She looked at her nephews and nieces; meeting the eye of each. “Want to know something funny? When I was fucking my brother, and watching John fuck his sister, I never felt move love towards him then I did at that moment.”
Marcia looked at Greg. “I know what you mean, I really do. I felt close to Greg when Uncle John was fucking me; I didn’t feel like I was cheating on him.”
Mary smiled at her. She held her husband’s hand and looked up at him, her eyes full of love. “What we found out; what your parents found out, was that sex was a great stimulation, a constant source of pleasure. Sharing it with others didn’t detract from the love you had for one particular person.”
“Amen to that,” Leroy said, and held his wife, Marcy closer. “I think my wife has the sweetest, the workingest pussy in the world. I love watching her fuck. She can make rocks cum.”
Peter raised his hand. “Shit, I’ll swear to that.”
And the Brady bunch laughed and hugged.
And they loved.
***
Mike and Carol Brady did not arrive home until late Monday evening. The house was empty, their children gone.
“Well,” Carol said, her voice forlorn, “so much for our family anniversary party. They’re gone.”
“Yeah,” her husband said gruffly. He didn’t admit it, but, he too, had looked forward to the reunion. To make matter worse, the trip to Sacremento had been a bust. The building had not needed design modifications, Scivone had been running scared and just wanted to play the big man at their expense. They had spent almost three days in a constant yelling match until, at last, Scivone had relented, admitting he had made a mistake. Reluctantly, he apologized.
“Stick your apology up your ass! You’re going to choke when you get our bill,” Mike had yelled at him. They were home now, emotionally exhausted; their hard won victory over Scivone a sour taste in their mouths. All their personal plans had been ruined.
“Oh, look, Mike, a note from the kids,” Carol said picking up an envelope marked: To Mom and Dad. She tore it open.
“What do they say?”
“I . . . don’t understand, look at this,” she said thrusting the note to him.
‘Dear Mom and Dad,’ he read, ‘we’ve gone home to get our things in order. With luck, we’ll all be back within a week or two. Then we’ll have a real party. By the way, we left you a little something to remember us by. It’s in the den.’
“I guess they’re coming back; probably want to give us the anniversary party we missed. I think that’s great.”
“But arranging for them to get here for this weekend took weeks. And what do they mean by ‘getting our things in order.’ What things?”
“Carol, you’re asking the wrong person. There’s the phone, give Marcia a call. She’s the one who wrote the note. Hey, lets see what they left for us.”
“I don’t see anything,” Carol said looking around the den.
“Neither do I . . . wait a sec, there’s a note on the VCR.” He picked up the piece of paper. ‘Just hit the PLAY button,’ it said. Carol looked at her husband, a strange sinking feeling in her chest. “Mike, you did hide that tape, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I did,” he said punching the PLAY button. The screen whirred and the picture took focus. John and Mary Cummings stood by the pool, arm in arm, fully dressed, waving at the camera. Carol sighed in relief. The scene shifted to the den; to a close up of Marcia and Mary faces; their heads were together, smiling. Carol thought they looked flushed, excited; and they seem to be straining to control their breathing.
“The kids have asked me to narrate their present to you,” Mary said looking straight at the camera. “It’s really not what you think. It’s a lot more. Seems they share the same outlook on life that we do, only they, fortunately, have discovered it much earlier then we did.”
Mike and Carol looked at each other, perplexed. Her sister-in-law was panting. Marcia looked like she was in a trance. “What’s going on, Mike?” Her husband just shook his hand at her to be quiet.
“I’m having trouble keeping my mind on what I’m saying,” Mary continued. Beads of perspiration popped out on her brow. “Maybe, like the Chinese say, a picture is worth a thousand words.”
The camera panned back to a full-angle shot. Carol and Mike gasped at the same time; their throats constricted and their chests began to heave. Carol clutched at her mouth. Her sister-in-law and her oldest daughter were naked! And impaled on two large cocks! The shock intensified as they saw who belonged to those cocks. Greg’s thick prong was stuck deep in his aunts’ wet, furry pussy, and John, Marcia’s uncle, had his pole pumping in and out of their daughter’s juicy cunt! The senior Bradys grasped at each other for support, for comfort; they didn’t know which. Initial shock gave way to anger, then, slowly, to wide-eyed fascination.
It was like watching their secret fantasies come true before their very eyes. The camera came in for a close-up of the two stuffed pussies. Mike’s eyes bulged when he saw the white, frothy pussycream on his brother’s cock. His daughter’s pussyjuice! He licked his lips in envy. He wanted to taste it badly. The camera continued to pan the room.
“Oh, my god!” Carol yelped as, suddenly, the screen was filled with her youngest daughter, Cindy, sucking on a very large, very black cock. Her jaws were stretched to the limit. Black hands imprisoned her blonde head, forcing more of the mammoth rod into her mouth. Even with eyes slitted with passion, they could see the euphoric look in them. The camera panned around to her back. Bobby Brady had his cock in his sister’s pussy and was stroking it in and out, slowly. In close-up, they could see the cum-juice glisten on his meaty shaft. He gave the camera a thumbs-up sign and smiled.
“I’m glad . . . you haven’t changed your hiding places, Dad,” he said to the camera. “You were the greatest, Mom!”
Carol dug her fingers into Mike’s arm and he yelped.
“Yeah, Mom,” Peter’s voice said off camera. “I can’t wait to find out what you’re like in real life.” The camera swung in an arc. Peter and Jan were on the sofa. She was straddling him, the tip of his thick prick in her blonde pussy, his hands kneading her full, firm tits. They could see the residue of Peter’s saliva around Jan’s nipples. They stood out hard and erect.
“And I,” Jan said breathlessly, “get first shot at your cock, dear Dad.” She smiled at the moving camera. “We cut cards and you’re mine!”
Mike Brady’s erection was immediate and Carol’s hand was there to squeeze it tightly through his pants. The camera continued to move around, recording the passion of each Brady member as they coupled together; with their aunt and uncle, and with Leroy and Marcy. Each scene triggered new, forbidden pleasures in their parents. Carol realized that the back of her skirt was wet with her own juices. She was pressing her hand against her mound trying to hold back the flood that threatened to gush out while her other hand squeezed her husband huge, erect, cock, straining to be released.
The screen went blank for a moment and she sighed with a sudden sense of loss. Then Marcia and Greg appeared on the screen. They were wearing robes, but their faces were still flushed with the glow of sex.
“Hi, Mom,” she said smiling. “We hope all this wasn’t too much of a shock.”
“Actually,” Greg said, “we’re hoping, that after the initial shock you guys started to fuck your brains out. Like you were joining us.”
Mike and Carol blushed and held each other tight. The first scenes had been shocking. Then, passion and lust; erotic fantasies had taken control of their minds and bodies. They hadn’t jumped at each other, the way they did with other sex videos, they had savored this one, living the moments with each of their offspring. Love, lust and pride intermingling emotions. They couldn’t, literally, take their eyes off the screen. The other Brady’s came and stood behind Greg and Marcia. Even with the light robe on, Jan’s magnificent tits were prominent.
“The reason for all this is simple. We want what you have; right here. We want to come home. Our lives, everything we want - and love - is here, under this roof. Your lifestyle - our lifestyle - may not be for everyone but it’s what we want,” Marcia said in earnest.
“What do you say, Dad,” Jan said, “Would you like a good architect in the firm who could also blow the hat right off your head? Think about the fun we could have on a drafting table.”
John and Mary Cummings stepped into the picture. “What the hell are you standing there with your mouth open, Mike. Move your ass. Get the house ready. The Brady bunch has united.”
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